January 5, 2015 by 250 Beers
It was the Monday after Christmas that I started to feel peculiar. I blamed the bizarre bloated feeling on excess feeding during the festivities. By this I’m not suggesting for one minute that I over drank too because – in comparison to recent years – my beer intake over Christmas was quite subdued.
When it comes to Christmas Day I simply must indulge in a traditional roast turkey with all of the trimmings. For those unaware I hail from England where it’s freezing cold at this time of year. There is nothing finer than a proper roast dinner to warm things up. Christmas 2014 was my sixth in Australia. I have to admit that despite me settling very well and very quickly here there is something about Christmas in a hot climate that I just cannot get used to. It would be the same for any Australian that was sampling Europe’s chillier climes at the same time of year. It just ain’t normal for me.
For my annual feast to be as spot-on and to my liking I cook it all myself. Preparation takes precedence over driving around wasting the day visiting in-laws. Nope, if they want to see us then they can drive to our place. They can stay and eat too – I have no problem with them per se. I’ll cater for as many that want to come. There was eight that sat and shared the delights with us this time around.
Shit, I digressed. Why did I mention all that? Ah, yes…it was to paint a picture of healthy eating (well sort of). I cooked turkey, beef, ham and trimmings that consisted of roast potatoes, pigs in blankets, (proper) Yorkshire puddings, little sage and onion stuffing balls, swede, peas, carrots, Brussel sprouts…the list goes on. It lasted us for days after. We had miniature roast dinners, miniature roast lunches, miniature roast omelettes, miniature roast sandwiches…
What I’m saying is I was convinced that stomach issues four days after we stopped singing carols was down to overdoing it on the roast front.
But that wasn’t the case.
I felt a little bit better when I rose from my slumber on the Tuesday. I wasn’t firing on all cylinders but I was well enough to stick to a lunch date with friends down at Burleigh Heads. Ze Pickle was our destination and what a great place it is for the Gold Coast. Such a chilled vibe, awesome burgers and one hell of a beer tap list!
It all went tits up around 5pm that afternoon. I arrived home and just had to lay down. However, bad stomach cramps and griping pains like I’ve never known before took over my body and I couldn’t get comfortable. Then the hot sweats began. Then the cold sweats began. Then the vomiting started and then…well…it happened at the other end too. Sorry kids but it did.
’twas just days after Christmas and all through the night,
my lunch had returned as vomit and shite.
This went on for most of the night and into Wednesday – New Year’s Eve.
I’d perked up a tiny bit by lunchtime and was feeling very hungry as I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before plus there was absolutely nothing left inside of me. So – probably foolishly – I ate baked beans on toast.
All was ok down below until I attempted to get into the right frame of mind for an evening in front of the television to watch 2015 arrive. I poured a bottle of Newstead’s Hammer Head, took a photo and posted it across my social media pages (as I do). I took a sip – or at least I tried to. The smell of this great beer made me vomit and I was back to square one reacquainting myself with my new best buddy – the bowl of my en suite toilet. We’d embraced quite a few times recently. It seemed like we’d known each other intimately for a long time so I was ok to spend this night of all nights hugging it.
I was facing my first New Year’s Eve without a beer since 1992…
…and it was torture.
I’m certainly not dependant on the stuff but imagine being a beer lover – a beer blogger even – and not being able to quaff a few beers whilst rejoicing to Auld Lang Syne come midnight.
My world was falling apart but so had my inners. It was time to face reality and defeat.
To be honest – and taking into consideration my beer intake during the past year – it was probably for the best that I took it easy for a while.
Going dry for a period of time is difficult. The last time I managed it successfully was during NOvemBEER 2013 – a self-inflicted period of drought (although I allowed myself to play five ‘joker cards’ throughout the month). Surprisingly, I’ve found this period without beer quite easy to cope with. I know it’s not even been a week yet but I’m not climbing the walls itching for a beer. Maybe my body is telling my brain that it needs some recovery time? I’m ok with that.
I was diagnosed with a mother-f*cker, super-strength bout of gastro (I got myself checked out by a doctor last Friday after the pains had moved to my chest). I’ve been advised to avoid beer for two weeks (that’ll be nearly three weeks all up). It’s to allow my stomach to ‘return to normal’.
HOLY SHIT! TWO WEEKS?
I won’t last that long I know it. I’ll be up for a beer in the next few days for sure.
It certainly brings another meaning to the phrase ‘doctor’s orders’ where beer is concerned!*
*For those reading from overseas, those that are below the legal age for drinking in Australia or simply those that wondered why the last sentence required an exclamation mark, Doctor’s Orders is an Australian brewing company.